tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-49173100001579366052024-02-19T09:54:25.725-05:00gruel for dinnergruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.comBlogger422125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-74101393061357890512013-04-02T23:32:00.002-04:002013-04-06T15:13:22.611-04:00the cooking challenge (week 9): roasted cauliflower with kalamata olive vinaigretteDriving up to Vermont this past weekend was like traveling back in time, leaving spring in Philadelphia<br />
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for the dull, gray dregs of winter farther north. This post is a time traveler, too—I’m just now telling you about the recipe I made in Week 9 of this cooking challenge/year, when it was still cold and gloomy everywhere. When cranking up the oven to roast vegetables was the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon: warm and indoors. This is a wintry dish, to be sure: cauliflower sliced thick like a steak, roasted in that hot oven, and slathered in a savory dressing. But I hear it snowed this morning in Vermont,<span style="text-align: center;"> it’s awfully blustery here in Philly, and <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/huff-wires/20130402/us-chilly-hawaii/?utm_hp_ref=homepage&ir=homepage" target="_blank">even Hawaii is experiencing record low temperatures</a>, so getting cozy with a cruciferous vegetable doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, and this is a delicious way to do it.</span><br />
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The recipe calls for cutting a crown of cauliflower into slabs, which makes for a more dramatic presentation,<br />
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but I've made this with florets, too, and it was just as good. It’s the combination of roasting and dressing that’s key: The vegetable becomes tender, crispy at the edges, and wonderfully nutty in the heat; the dressing is salty, slightly acidic, slick. It’s so good, and easy, I’ll definitely take it with me into the future, eating it on these spring days that pose as winter, again next fall when the days grow short and the nights cold, and on into next year…it's a keeper.</div>
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<strong>Roasted Cauliflower With Kalamata Olive Vinaigrette</strong><br />
<em>Adapted from </em><a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Roasted-Cauliflower-with-Kalamata-Vinaigrette-354954" target="_blank">Gourmet</a></div>
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1 (2 1/2-to 3-pound) head cauliflower<br />
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil, divided<br />
1 small garlic clove<br />
1 to 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice (to taste)<br />
1/4 cup pitted Kalamata olives, finely chopped</div>
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1. Preheat oven to 450°F with rack in lower third.</div>
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2. Cut cauliflower lengthwise into 3/4-inch-thick slices. Place in a large, four-sided sheet pan and toss with 2 tablespoons of oil and 1/2 teaspoon each of salt and pepper. Roast, turning once or twice, until golden and just tender, about 25 minutes.</div>
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3. While the cauliflower roasts, mince and mash the garlic to a paste with a pinch of salt, then whisk together with lemon juice, remaining 2 tablespoons of oil, olives, 1/8 teaspoon salt, and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Serve cauliflower drizzled with Kalamata vinaigrette.</div>
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gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-38457131013456197582013-03-22T00:51:00.000-04:002013-04-06T15:13:10.221-04:00the cooking challenge (week 8): lemon pudding<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve never liked that “When life hands
you lemons…” expression, because frankly, life <i>is</i> lemons. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s also chocolate cake and chicken vindaloo and a hunk of cave-aged cheddar cheese. It’s Tater Tots and steak tartare. It’s peanut butter toast, a slice of watermelon, a bowl of rice and beans.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And life doesn’t just hand us lemons, we
often stand under the tree, reach up, and pick the fruit ourselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">That said, my own life has lately felt
very lemony. Maybe it’s my marriage ending when I didn’t want it to, or being
unable to write and unsure of what I’m doing with my life, or falling in love
and breaking up and getting back together with someone new, or trying to find a
job, or selling my home, or moving to a new city, leaving behind most of the people who held me up, both literally and
metaphorically, as I stumbled my way through the past year and a half. Or maybe
it’s just the where-the-hell-is-spring blues. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever it is, there are lemons
everywhere. Trees of sunshine-yellow fruit that I can’t resist picking. Lemons
falling from the sky. Lemons littering the ground underfoot, making for very
unstable terrain. And while I know that being alive is a fundamentally wobbly
endeavor, I wouldn’t mind the illusion right now of some real solid ground
beneath my feet. I’m shaky and scared and tired. I’m in a sour-lemon <i>funk</i>. And you know what they say: When
life hands you lemons, make lemon pudding. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The original recipe was called Meyer
Lemon Budino (budino is the Italian word for pudding), but life hasn’t been
handing me Meyer lemons, so I used the regular kind, and an orange. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgayQAoF35v1wxAIEyp9iqU2rvxDDAWzVaCKOXlISCmbjvine_8G2FZUcee_ABZ8T4rCmlji4b58Yqs7eOWkJwKybxhCN2sMpoAKLpNM9RbY38Yu6Wif3XWCVenajiXRi-beiw-HHekm5r/s1600/IMG_2757.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgayQAoF35v1wxAIEyp9iqU2rvxDDAWzVaCKOXlISCmbjvine_8G2FZUcee_ABZ8T4rCmlji4b58Yqs7eOWkJwKybxhCN2sMpoAKLpNM9RbY38Yu6Wif3XWCVenajiXRi-beiw-HHekm5r/s640/IMG_2757.JPG" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This
pudding is quick and easy to whip up, made with ingredients that you most
likely have on hand (if life isn’t handing you lemons, check your
refrigerator—there are probably a few rolling around in the crisper). Life is
lemons. It’s flour and eggs and sugar and milk and salt and butter. Just typing
those words was a comfort. So is knowing that such reliable staples—all you
need to make this pudding— are sitting in the darkness of the refrigerator and
cupboard in my kitchen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So was making pudding on a Sunday
afternoon. Squeezing the lemons and grating the rind, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">separating the eggs,
whisking the yolks with the sugar </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">and flour and lemon and milk, beating the
whites with the salt. Pouring the batter into six little Mason jars </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">and baking
them in a water bath. The smell that filled my sunlit apartment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The batter magically separates while
baking: a layer of lemon-curd-like custard on the bottom, an airy poof of cake
on top. I ate one straight from the oven with a wallop of whipped cream. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Now five little Mason jars of pudding. The
cakey top sinks and shrinks a bit as the pudding cools, which was fine for my
purposes. I capped the jars and walked around my new neighborhood delivering
pudding to the few but dear friends I have here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’m so, so grateful for those
friends. For lemons and lemon pudding. For flour and eggs and sugar and milk
and salt and butter. For the way a stocked pantry is a version of a solid life.
I brought pudding and was invited to stay for dinner—life is gorgonzola-and-eggplant
ravioli, and when we're lucky, a deep breath on solid ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Life-Is-Lemons Pudding</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Adapted from</i> <a href="http://www.bonappetit.com/recipes/2006/09/meyer_lemon_budino" target="_blank">Bon Appetit </a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Note: The recipe calls for Meyer lemons,
and I made it once this way and once with 1/4 regular lemon juice and 2
tablespoons of fresh orange juice, and didn’t notice a difference. According
to <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/reviews/Meyer-Lemon-Budino-235859" target="_blank">the reviews of the recipe on Epicurious</a>, plenty of people have
successfully made it entirely with regular lemons.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">Butter<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">1/2 cup plus 2
tablespoons sugar<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">3 large eggs,
separated<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">1/4 cup all purpose
flour<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">1/4 cup fresh Meyer
lemon juice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">2 tablespoons fresh
regular lemon juice<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">2 tablespoons finely
grated Meyer lemon peel<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">3/4 cup plus 2
tablespoons whole milk<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;"> </span>1/4 teaspoon salt</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Georgia;">Whipped cream
(optional)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">1. Preheat
oven to 350°F. Butter six 3/4-cup custard cups or ramekins or Mason jars. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">2. Combine
1/2 cup sugar, egg yolks, flour, lemon juice, and lemon peel in large bowl;
whisk until well blended. Whisk in milk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">3. Using
electric mixer, beat egg whites and salt in medium bowl until frothy. Gradually
add remaining 2 tablespoons sugar and beat until soft peaks form. Fold beaten
egg whites into lemon mixture in 2 additions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">4. Divide
mixture among prepared custard cups. Place custard cups in roasting pan. Pour
enough hot water into roasting pan to come halfway up sides of custard cups.
Bake puddings until tops are golden and spring back when lightly touched, about
30 minutes. Remove cups from water. Serve warm or cold with whipped cream, if
desired.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w0FTSksWap4SorZ0Y0cktOyZHYi9QKPFbqIIayrHZ9EMpUHBpy2Rd-R_XzcoX9jOB8cAtIX-JKQNx1UhlY3IcKhyphenhyphenSnVRIm1qQUpDsQicBCEjs0Nsdq7iYfvRTeb4ZnDwuVBDBAdApLwx/s1600/DSC_0242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0w0FTSksWap4SorZ0Y0cktOyZHYi9QKPFbqIIayrHZ9EMpUHBpy2Rd-R_XzcoX9jOB8cAtIX-JKQNx1UhlY3IcKhyphenhyphenSnVRIm1qQUpDsQicBCEjs0Nsdq7iYfvRTeb4ZnDwuVBDBAdApLwx/s640/DSC_0242.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-83159701746736034962013-03-11T14:28:00.004-04:002013-04-06T15:12:56.820-04:00the cooking challenge (week 7): chocolate mousse<div class="MsoNormal">
Last week, week 6 of the challenge, was more like week 666 in my kitchen (and elsewhere in my life, actually), so this week, to prevent further disaster, I made a deal with the devil. It didn’t involve eternal life or Chester’s soul or anything like that. Just some chocolate mousse and the ghost of Julia Child and the birth of a horned, cloven-hoofed baby. Anyway, I can’t really get into the details of my contract with Satan, but I can tell you a few things about chocolate mousse.</div>
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1. It’s far easier to make than chocolate brioche and so, so good: rich but also light and airy, chocolaty with hints of espresso and rum. You'll need to use most of the bowls you own and there's a fair amount of whipping, but this is why you own all those bowls, and that electric mixer. </div>
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2. You must use good chocolate.</div>
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3. When you bring this chocolate mousse to a dinner party, one person won’t partake because there are raw eggs in it, which means there will be more mousse for you. Don’t be afraid to bogart the extra serving—you’re eating for two now! Yourself and the unborn spawn of the devil.</div>
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4. The person who won’t eat the mousse <em>will </em>eat a bowl of whipped cream.</div>
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5. Whipped cream is wonderful on mousse, but it shouldn’t be too sweet.</div>
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666. When photographed, mousse looks a lot like…poop. So there are no pictures of the finished product, just a few (homely) ones of the process. </div>
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<strong>Chocolate Mousse</strong><br />
<em>From </em>Mastering the Art of French Cooking <em>by Julia Child via <a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2008/05/perfect-chocola/" target="_blank">David Lebowitz</a><a href="http://www.davidlebovitz.com/2008/05/perfect-chocola/" target="_blank"> </a></em></div>
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6 ounces high-quality bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, chopped (I used Green & Black's 70%)<br />
6 ounces unsalted butter, cut into small pieces <br />
1/4 cup espresso or strong brewed coffee <br />
4 large eggs, separated <br />
2/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar <br />
2 tablespoons dark rum <br />
1 tablespoon water <br />
pinch of salt <br />
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract</div>
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1. Heat a saucepan one-third full with hot water, and in a bowl set on top, melt together the chocolate, butter, and coffee, stirring over the barely simmering water, until smooth. Remove from heat.</div>
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<img alt="image" src="http://media.tumblr.com/4626a6426e978dc53bb8f80c8966615e/tumblr_inline_mjb01cAH1C1qz4rgp.jpg" /></div>
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2. Fill a large bowl with ice water and set aside.<br />
3. In a bowl large enough to nest securely on the saucepan of simmering water, whisk or mix with an electric mixer the yolks of the eggs with the 2/3 cup of sugar, rum, and water for about 3 minutes until the mixture is thick, like runny mayonnaise.</div>
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3. Remove from heat and place the bowl of whipped egg yolks within the bowl of ice water and beat until cool and thick, then fold the chocolate mixture into the egg yolks.</div>
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4. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites with the salt until frothy. Continue to beat until they start to hold their shape. Whip in the tablespoon of sugar and continue to beat until thick and shiny, but not completely stiff, then add the vanilla.</div>
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5. Fold one-third of the beaten egg whites into the chocolate mixture, then fold in the remainder of the whites just until incorporated, but don’t overdo it or the mousse will lose volume.</div>
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<img alt="image" src="http://media.tumblr.com/52c64d38d7687c4fc70e0016b2468ecc/tumblr_inline_mjb052U0JX1qz4rgp.jpg" /></div>
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6. Transfer the mousse to a serving bowl or divide into serving dishes, and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, until firm.</div>
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Bon appétit!</div>
gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-68540345670182239302013-03-06T14:13:00.001-05:002013-04-06T15:12:42.874-04:00the cooking challenge (week 6): happily ever...noHere’s a little story that typifies what happens when I try to bake.<br />
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Once upon a time, there was a recipe for <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2012/06/chocolate-swirl-buns/" target="_blank">chocolate-swirled brioche rolls</a>, and this recipe called for a room-temperature egg and room-temperature butter. Why room temperature? No one knows why. But, fine, I’ll go along. Like most normal people, I keep my eggs and butter in the refrigerator; unlike most normal people, I don’t own a microwave. So to expedite their transition to room temperature, I did what most normal people would and set my butter and egg in a patch of sunlight on the rug in my bedroom. My dog, <a href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/2011/03/to-every-thing-there-is-season.html" target="_blank">who thought all patches of sunlight on the floor were his personal, if itinerant and ephemeral, property</a>, was pissed.</div>
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<img alt="image" height="640" src="http://media.tumblr.com/c1f102ebbc5311de0de18bd3477e4dcd/tumblr_inline_mj3h7fOvaZ1qz4rgp.jpg" width="594" /></div>
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<img alt="image" height="640" src="http://media.tumblr.com/a7c95dd46c84200be098249f5a92933e/tumblr_inline_mj3h6a5jqO1qz4rgp.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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So was I, when I walked through the bedroom a little while later and accidentally kicked the egg across the room.<br />
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But no matter. Eggs basically grow on trees. Or in refrigerators, anyway. A new one came up to room temperature on the countertop while I warmed half a cup of milk to between 110 and 116 degrees. Why between 110 and 116 degrees? Because baked-goods recipe writers are sadistic power-trip types who take great pleasure in making bakers submit to their will. But like I said, I’ll go along. I sprinkled a packet of yeast on the exactly 114 degree milk, but the yeast didn’t foam like it was supposed to. So I did it all over again, this time while cursing the egg on the counter, which was definitely smirking: warmed the milk, measured the temperature, sprinkled the yeast. This time there was a very subtle foam, so I made the dough and left it to rise. But it didn’t. Why? To fuck with my head. That’s why.</div>
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<img alt="image" height="640" src="http://media.tumblr.com/310c3ae98b568417fa03b56e011c0d7b/tumblr_inline_mj3h9wQw1g1qz4rgp.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Incredibly rude dough not rising.</span></div>
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I want pretty much more than anything in the world to be able to make chocolate brioche rolls. Actually, what I really want is to be able to <em>eat</em> chocolate brioche rolls at will, and you know what the lord, says: Teach a woman to <a href="http://www.thenomadicoven.com/chocolate-brioche" target="_blank">buy chocolate brioche rolls</a>, and she'll eat one whenever she’s near a bakery that makes them, which is not actually that often. Teach a woman to <em>bake</em> chocolate brioche rolls, and she’ll eat one whenever she wants, or maybe a couple of hours after she wants, because she’ll bake and freeze a batch and then when she wants a roll she’ll thaw in out in a of patch of sunlight on her bedroom floor. Anyway, fuck brioche.</div>
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I gave up and made <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2011/07/whole-wheat-raspberry-ricotta-scones/" target="_blank">scones</a>. I’m not a huge fan of scones, but I was going to a brunch with some ladies and needed to bring something, and fuck brioche, and ladies like scones. But not <em>these</em> scones. </div>
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<img alt="image" height="640" src="http://media.tumblr.com/3f42e000191479fccfb0ad74095a24c0/tumblr_inline_mj3hd1Zyc01qz4rgp.jpg" width="640" /></div>
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The ladies didn’t even get to try these scones. These scones were so bad I “accidentally” left them in the car when I went to the brunch. Actually, calling them “so bad” is giving them too much credit. What they were was bland. So bland they don’t even deserve “so” as a modifier. They were the perfect texture (moist yet crumbly) but</div>
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that blank space is the taste of my scones.</div>
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The end.</div>
gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-27831048836891944282013-03-02T11:51:00.002-05:002015-06-02T10:05:43.848-04:00justin bieber and selena grapefruit<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So I’ve been dating someone, which is
odd—I mean, he’s not odd—well, he’s a little odd, but not more so than you and I. What I’m getting at is that
it’s odd to be 41 and have a boyfriend. Because he’s not a boy, and I’m not in
high school, and it’s just…odd. Anyway, we’ve been a little break-up-get-back-together
lately, but at the end of last year, when we were together, we challenged each
other to cook one new dish every week in 2013 and started a tumblr about it. Then we broke up. Now we’re
back together! Kind of. Dating really should
be left entirely to Justin Bieber and Selena Gomez and those who love them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway, it turns out that tumblr is also odd (among other things, the word <i>tumbler </i>is traditionally spelled with an "e," and the platform doesn’t allow commenting), so when we update our cooking challenge bl*g, I’m going to link to it so that you can meet my kind-of boyfriend and read about what he's cooking, but I’m also going to repost my own posts
here so you can comment. About dating or cooking or Justin Bieber.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">My most recent post is below (you may notice that I'm way behind; see "we broke up" above), and you can read the rest here. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Week 5: Grapefruit, Avocado, and Fennel Salad</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I moved to Philadelphia in part for the weather, which I know sounds crazy to anyone who lives here, and it’s true, I think I was aiming low. But I moved here from <em>Vermont</em> (have you spent a winter in Vermont? Because that winter is still going on there). Before that I lived in DC for five years, which has a similar climate to Philly—four distinct seasons, none of which lasts forever: Summer in the mid-Atlantic is basically disgusting, but spring is a knockout, fall perfectly pleasant, and the winters not that bad, compared to where I’m from. Or they didn’t seem that bad until a couple of weeks ago, specifically Week 5 of this challenge, when I was no longer appeased by the absence of snow and subzero temperatures. I wondered why I hadn’t moved to the South. Or, better yet, the South of France. The view of gray skies and spindly, bare branches of trees from my bedroom window was destroying my already weak will to get up in the morning. The biting wind I met on my first walk of the day was bitter, as was I. Very, vey bitter.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I made lots of wintry foods that week—some new recipes, like a <a href="http://www.food.com/recipe/creamy-cauliflower-soup-sans-cream-dorie-greenspan-442849" target="_blank">creamy cauliflower soup</a> that didn’t actually have cream and <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=9yQ0FwGEUpMC&pg=PT314&lpg=PT314&dq=ina+garten+flageolet&source=bl&ots=izSF73r4v1&sig=0iDjzbQnlLrDM4-iQSsrpZuCPMc&hl=en&sa=X&ei=OyIsUZ35KsnE0AG5z4DwAw&ved=0CF4Q6AEwBg" target="_blank">braised beans</a> that featured both bacon and beef stock as ingredients, and old favorites, too, like <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Braised-Beef-Brisket-355532" target="_blank">brisket</a>. But it turns out heavy, rich foods were not the answer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The answer was grapefruits. And oranges. And lemons. Some thinly sliced fennel. Creamy avocado. <em>Salad</em>. A crisp, bright sunny day of a salad, imported from warmer climes. Which is where I plan to start spending my winters as soon as I marry the octogenarian retiree of my dreams. Any day now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><strong>Grapefruit, Avocado, and Fennel Salad</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><em>The recipe below is more or less <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Grapefruit-Avocado-and-Fennel-Salad-4422#ixzz2LyFPCesU" target="_blank">the original, Bon Appétit version</a>. I adapted it, but not in any exact way. Because this version serves eight and I was cooking for two, I used just one grapefruit, one fennel bulb, and one avocado. The arugula was measured in handfuls, not cups. I didn’t arrange anything in layers; I lightly dressed and carefully tossed it. And the dressing, which I made more or less as described here, was too sweet, so I added more lemon juice to taste, as well as the grapefruit juice that had leaked from the fruit when I peeled and pithed it. There was tons of dressing left over, but it goes well on all kinds of salads, beans, grains...</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Dressing</u><br />1/3 cup fresh orange juice<br />1/4 cup fresh lemon juice<br />3 tablespoons olive oil<br />2 tablespoons honey<br />1 tablespoon minced shallot<br />1 teaspoon grated lemon peel<br />1 teaspoon grated orange peel<br />1 teaspoon minced peeled fresh ginger<br />1 teaspoon dry mustard<br />1 teaspoon oriental sesame oil</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whisk the ingredients for the dressing in a large bowl to blend, or shake them vigorously in a jar. Season with salt and pepper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Salad</u><br />2 large pink grapefruits, peel and white pith removed<br />1 pound fennel bulbs, trimmed, cut into paper-thin slices (I used my trusty mandolin; and when I say “trusty mandolin,” I mean the mandolin with which I am bit by bit amputating my right thumb)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />2 large avocados, halved, pitted, peeled, cut into thin slices<br />2 cups arugula</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">1. Using a sharp knife, cut between membranes of grapefruits to release segments.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">2. Spread fennel slices over large platter. Arrange grapefruit segments and avocado slices atop fennel. Drizzle dressing over salad. Arrange arugula atop salad. </span></div>
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<br />gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-52589987453015160522013-02-23T15:33:00.000-05:002013-02-28T20:04:33.143-05:00are you there, bl*g? it's me, kate<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hi there. Long time no see. A year! It’s
been a year to the day since the last time I posted here. A long and crazy-ass
year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Let me start off by saying that I’ve
missed you terribly. I’ve missed cooking gruel
for dinner and telling you about it. I’ve missed complaining about the weather and
posting far too many photos of my dog. I’ve missed your comments and friendship
and the little community we were making together in this quiet corner of the internet.
I’ve missed writing—you gave me a reason to, and I haven’t much for the last 18 months.
They’ve been tough ones. Real bitches, in fact (I
apologize to all my bitches for taking your name in vain). And, in many ways, quite wonderful, too.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This bl*g was ostensibly about food, but it
was also about my little dog and the man I was married to and the life we were
making together in a little city perched on the edge of an ancient glacial lake
surrounded by mountains in northeast Vermont. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYViHi9oFxZ6x7RyE3Fl24OQmq2NE5Cs8mTvL2e5NDe4NEOQGR9x0FlvSQr1d7dJdEbbjycmoEB8FivaZ1U2FWO16t5qKndVLpzwziSdfYIBYnuOVNp4N-EjvETCDmvw6IrH7yJT14k5_/s1600/IMG_0973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDYViHi9oFxZ6x7RyE3Fl24OQmq2NE5Cs8mTvL2e5NDe4NEOQGR9x0FlvSQr1d7dJdEbbjycmoEB8FivaZ1U2FWO16t5qKndVLpzwziSdfYIBYnuOVNp4N-EjvETCDmvw6IrH7yJT14k5_/s640/IMG_0973.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A life that felt as sure and
inevitable as that lake. I slept on its shore, swam and was tossed and floated in its waters. For more than
ten years that lake was my home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If I were going to work this life/lake metaphor to the bone, and apparently
I am, I’d make reference now to toxic sludge, or cyanobacteria, or whatever else irrevocably damages a lake. But instead I’ll tell you the good news: Chester is lying next to me on the couch
as I write this, and he has not gotten one lick less handsome since you saw him
last. We’re in front of the fireplace in my new apartment in…Philadelphia (I <i>know</i>: weird, right?). </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzcddf_MTnQuECokv52sBqcGYuuJ3vWqgSwexucOzOg0v0IwppwCRV_xNfgIj7RsVYxwoJv2P3IifGrMbK-zWf-HATPFTXw7LbqUTjzkB1-8RqzdNPy688Tx-zv6nJwOE4BVkYHnUMh2y9/s1600/photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzcddf_MTnQuECokv52sBqcGYuuJ3vWqgSwexucOzOg0v0IwppwCRV_xNfgIj7RsVYxwoJv2P3IifGrMbK-zWf-HATPFTXw7LbqUTjzkB1-8RqzdNPy688Tx-zv6nJwOE4BVkYHnUMh2y9/s640/photo.jpg" width="404" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This is the view from my tiny back
deck.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kEfVUvhGx4l9o_NvT2zR7D8hjMfHe2xUsNPo5lb_Mm-kPqfz_Wqog-n6v3c_av7ebn6608pt1NFkeLdHv90kGQbKi-28TV7ZYvf2A58Sr-WATygu6BZjzhIfWoL0NYlaUneGj8PgA20o/s1600/IMG_1984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="449" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kEfVUvhGx4l9o_NvT2zR7D8hjMfHe2xUsNPo5lb_Mm-kPqfz_Wqog-n6v3c_av7ebn6608pt1NFkeLdHv90kGQbKi-28TV7ZYvf2A58Sr-WATygu6BZjzhIfWoL0NYlaUneGj8PgA20o/s640/IMG_1984.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ve learned some things in the past 18
months that I wouldn’t have chosen to about impermanence and resilience, but
I’m glad to know them. I’ve learned some things about friendship and family and
community—lifesaving things—that I’m so, so grateful for. I wonder sometimes why we human beings are
so rotten to each other. And I marvel at how we love and care for each other.
How lucky we are that we all exist.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t know if you’re still there, but I
want you to know, one year after my last post, how glad I am that you exist. I
have no idea what the future holds (it’s hilarious to me that I ever thought I
did!), but I hope it includes more writing and cooking and reading, things
I haven’t done enough of in the past 18 months. I hope it includes sharing
those things with you, either here at GFD or in a new corner of the internet.
Either way, I’ll keep you posted.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Love you, bitches.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-57925300605961861892012-02-23T23:31:00.010-05:002013-02-28T23:37:41.268-05:00postcard from oaxaca<div style="text-align: left;">
Wish you were here. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3g1qt8brczEdWYlOw6ViYHb6-SbXdnHsNs-xgR2-jW2V__xmIzNL5DDuGuOOij8ryUr-R7cX688ufjf2ZHoR_k_fBg0BpnNhbfNR63OORjwp8IJ81EIedpmXlGnawB_LUTQhMSeAQyFDa/s1600/photo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" height="480" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712556380102488290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3g1qt8brczEdWYlOw6ViYHb6-SbXdnHsNs-xgR2-jW2V__xmIzNL5DDuGuOOij8ryUr-R7cX688ufjf2ZHoR_k_fBg0BpnNhbfNR63OORjwp8IJ81EIedpmXlGnawB_LUTQhMSeAQyFDa/s640/photo.JPG" style="display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" width="640" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NTWMv1_1cNZ1l6NubiYiP1gst79RqkyaRzu-B-kBfVTyjOZrxdwfR-I4T5F6pD6P-4IEe3GsXOnIksTdDEbFVlXB8vT56c-ECiLjwwykNYXj2Q-Uc2AMhvmXComLNRveW0BWbztwT5rO/s1600/DSC00013.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712556371777558514" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3NTWMv1_1cNZ1l6NubiYiP1gst79RqkyaRzu-B-kBfVTyjOZrxdwfR-I4T5F6pD6P-4IEe3GsXOnIksTdDEbFVlXB8vT56c-ECiLjwwykNYXj2Q-Uc2AMhvmXComLNRveW0BWbztwT5rO/s400/DSC00013.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">It's lime, bitches. For making tortillas.<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJqyIKX2-BWUCiVLwbs3lGQvmAKo-3qV1r3z2J0yX2deRGZ9NmvpMqE548MmwCQWRyQ3QH9LQ-0pHYT9QyIb6z4ll7SvoMVkvjARK821hBZhGtCjHzfu3Of9nWIY6cqWA0yNLs3X_OeeD/s1600/photo.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" height="640" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712556009074807922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRJqyIKX2-BWUCiVLwbs3lGQvmAKo-3qV1r3z2J0yX2deRGZ9NmvpMqE548MmwCQWRyQ3QH9LQ-0pHYT9QyIb6z4ll7SvoMVkvjARK821hBZhGtCjHzfu3Of9nWIY6cqWA0yNLs3X_OeeD/s640/photo.jpg" style="display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" width="480" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0oBtc97Le39H3MBzrOn1VluGUJeJVTtrrO1N75odlPhLUppdnTMHZR9t5VbHw0L-d-kBk31oquVulGIiAThRjGsxquziCjVBDHjsCFbD1hbxc7DG_NRufohnGCD6-dxEOOGCIoQW2mZm/s1600/DSC00091.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712556021024892466" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS0oBtc97Le39H3MBzrOn1VluGUJeJVTtrrO1N75odlPhLUppdnTMHZR9t5VbHw0L-d-kBk31oquVulGIiAThRjGsxquziCjVBDHjsCFbD1hbxc7DG_NRufohnGCD6-dxEOOGCIoQW2mZm/s400/DSC00091.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwJLvnqIhFEXUaRsI7AAWU7db3caoB23vCkiCaacBEPVxAwOAX4-9MtwiEXvZKcIWgCKURg5SAC9cXjtSPhj9AUMk_ULJmnbwyUUgTIqUZf28Kqrudl-y2g3igRx7O8ulZrhvZu3oceyFf/s1600/DSC00040.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712556015213234962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwJLvnqIhFEXUaRsI7AAWU7db3caoB23vCkiCaacBEPVxAwOAX4-9MtwiEXvZKcIWgCKURg5SAC9cXjtSPhj9AUMk_ULJmnbwyUUgTIqUZf28Kqrudl-y2g3igRx7O8ulZrhvZu3oceyFf/s400/DSC00040.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">She's making ice cream!<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjej1MAz2KfTiLbP0cYqLs3bte6S3WQrcAVlZNFtkl9yebSZZKad7NdhPD_H6jJqRORxbOyt4Qte-a5ZatZgHaPZ0PesdNmlbixwfiOfR_Bl4sWEk_93cnIWDmd-2M5TcTNy4XP6_zFoRc3/s1600/DSC00070.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712555984315479922" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjej1MAz2KfTiLbP0cYqLs3bte6S3WQrcAVlZNFtkl9yebSZZKad7NdhPD_H6jJqRORxbOyt4Qte-a5ZatZgHaPZ0PesdNmlbixwfiOfR_Bl4sWEk_93cnIWDmd-2M5TcTNy4XP6_zFoRc3/s400/DSC00070.JPG" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-size: 78%;">They're herding goats!<br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5p0b0KJriOaW9kDAFwoswumAGhgry-byU8US-5tbbqyIoGgRGuIktsusQ6Y7LFiuN4yH1rC7aUKIwxxiIRMqMWItvrqGChNjlzi5KHXh4_UIH2IMcT963XnOD-PMP2QRd73VVFHwuHZOK/s1600/photo.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712556360472646050" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5p0b0KJriOaW9kDAFwoswumAGhgry-byU8US-5tbbqyIoGgRGuIktsusQ6Y7LFiuN4yH1rC7aUKIwxxiIRMqMWItvrqGChNjlzi5KHXh4_UIH2IMcT963XnOD-PMP2QRd73VVFHwuHZOK/s400/photo.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: 78%;"><br />This video goes out to Face: Ask and ye shall receive, girl.</span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy-tJLNg36N9LD4ux92TAq_2GSNd8mDT-cpMSZ6yRM-xxdfTdUt6wv1hd97aHKcYj-Rthn5k0dvoZid-hqB' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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One day soon I'll write a long letter instead of a postcard. But for now, your bl*g mistress went to Mexico and all you got were these photos and AWESOME VIDEO (<a href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/2009/09/dont-blame-me-i-had-mohawk-and-wore.html"><u>the '80s are back</u></a>; if hipsters can wear shoulder pads, I can use the word <span style="font-style: italic;">awesome</span> like it's going out of style, which it did a long time ago).<br />
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P.S. I miss you. Lots and lots and lots.gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-32129002423205545902011-12-15T11:46:00.001-05:002011-12-15T11:48:38.849-05:00he came from the glorious kingdom<div style="text-align: center;"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ihQuiyV-lXU?rel=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-67646395274876470032011-08-02T23:28:00.009-04:002011-08-02T23:43:36.071-04:00yay<div style="text-align: left;">After weeks of <a href="http://www.google.com/search?client=safari&rls=en&q=debt+crisis&ie=UTF-8&oe=UTF-8#pq=debt%20crisis&hl=en&cp=2&gs_id=a&xhr=t&q=u.s.+debt+crisis&qe=dS5kZWJ0IGNyaXNpcw&qesig=JOM2zIL96fHuiXzlWNTUIQ&pkc=AFgZ2tnouad90laMwC2wUfp-er96yxvWtxpWaivKvnPcTNQ9NLI69bBimfNN0XNTEN8YGyR-NiIZq2Tnx8mbu57h6VG2wfZ1GA&pf=p&sclient=psy&client=safari&rls=en&source=hp&pbx=1&oq=u.debt+crisis&aq=0c&aqi=g-c2g-b1&aql=&gs_sm=&gs_upl=&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&fp=8fe1084bfe96a3fd&biw=1920&bih=995"><u>this</u></a>, I was ready for some good news. Seeing <a href="http://nymag.com/fashion/lookbook/look-book-2011-8-8/"><u>this</u></a> made me so, so happy.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfQrOEqtfOD-1Tx-8HwkiuwSrOrdrUcqBlR_LIoRgSaT785Aiv3jUjPjsHMNFudV6GuXKuNNiFJHdm2G9LRTHnvNAxfwLPN-b7zsHzwkU8qVAuLi3MqHEjSbnfypsPzQCgtKNH-IqcnCf2/s400/lb110808_3_560.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636467119497331474" /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="http://nymag.com/fashion/lookbook/look-book-2011-8-8/"><u>Read it</u></a> and smile.</div></div>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-16025069253216523392011-07-21T22:38:00.006-04:002011-07-21T22:53:50.508-04:00the best evening of summer so far<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPh8fGoPkaap3255DlNxA9nNs1bjNuc0qCYOWUJwgZ2_wkRYvJHYp6J9QZ7d_MpxiDCF5n4BR29briQOHENk10NWFKhJLH8USHS4gEUIWqTjru7bVd3hmzdP6DyGXVcXHF6rikaXyonUz/s1600/DSC09996.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMPh8fGoPkaap3255DlNxA9nNs1bjNuc0qCYOWUJwgZ2_wkRYvJHYp6J9QZ7d_MpxiDCF5n4BR29briQOHENk10NWFKhJLH8USHS4gEUIWqTjru7bVd3hmzdP6DyGXVcXHF6rikaXyonUz/s400/DSC09996.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632001941855198098" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ad8sLPP2xx2o_9myUC5bpq7h7dqUDMhXtTpCmXgDGxJpexubyJovfb1x0jv8z7C061DMlxtagJpnvpbUm4V3XKuG6vHxx7mnC_1j4Wg_2j4RHUAN2hvvxRDXLqpNXr8qL-PHL-IrPssv/s1600/DSC00011.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ad8sLPP2xx2o_9myUC5bpq7h7dqUDMhXtTpCmXgDGxJpexubyJovfb1x0jv8z7C061DMlxtagJpnvpbUm4V3XKuG6vHxx7mnC_1j4Wg_2j4RHUAN2hvvxRDXLqpNXr8qL-PHL-IrPssv/s400/DSC00011.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632001958045199186" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqDwuy29pGqwwLB4m01qVHvVq2IbkC3rwuU4Pq-L7L1h1jbf1LU97tiHvrZvbOsQ9qbea4DQt9hjwD4HralBNJ5DbVfSwr0mghGeIF8U8IXLqUcDViFPCq4B0L9OMFQdB2GpyZ3DmviFu/s1600/DSC00025.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGqDwuy29pGqwwLB4m01qVHvVq2IbkC3rwuU4Pq-L7L1h1jbf1LU97tiHvrZvbOsQ9qbea4DQt9hjwD4HralBNJ5DbVfSwr0mghGeIF8U8IXLqUcDViFPCq4B0L9OMFQdB2GpyZ3DmviFu/s400/DSC00025.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632001959111486386" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Uex1fyo3m_zfu9Bg21A1PbUvDZL5h7C3rqlbk8PdrfmG-xCcGuLWfTdPehOBHH35y7VhMUhD4rxujoaxPSY28eUF0U4gSKjSj9-FoqKIhoQhHkaKUHJKiakFr9sVuMPlaCgDfVefyzbx/s1600/DSC00024.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Uex1fyo3m_zfu9Bg21A1PbUvDZL5h7C3rqlbk8PdrfmG-xCcGuLWfTdPehOBHH35y7VhMUhD4rxujoaxPSY28eUF0U4gSKjSj9-FoqKIhoQhHkaKUHJKiakFr9sVuMPlaCgDfVefyzbx/s400/DSC00024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632001970101669906" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">A closeup of the pork belly tacos seems in order. So you can see the pool of fat.</span><br /></div><br />The night also involved being serenaded by a dishwasher playing a pink banjo and singing a little tune he wrote called "Angry White Woman" while I drank beer and ate chocolate and wasn't angry at all.gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-65950299223815402132011-07-16T23:32:00.013-04:002011-07-17T00:03:53.097-04:00do you remember when this was a food bl*g?<div>The best day of summer so far:</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTyyEKerVStKUXFU6NgKBHojZn1qDtRdLRHJF4Md6Zw_aNmara7Cq_U_2sUoDmEIlmv1GD4de1OLp3pUwduanLI6axll7LPnOic9bXYsP5Cr6AS_iSpfz0xG3JTyx1rE8EtXWoJjRCpsm/s1600/DSC00048.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGTyyEKerVStKUXFU6NgKBHojZn1qDtRdLRHJF4Md6Zw_aNmara7Cq_U_2sUoDmEIlmv1GD4de1OLp3pUwduanLI6axll7LPnOic9bXYsP5Cr6AS_iSpfz0xG3JTyx1rE8EtXWoJjRCpsm/s400/DSC00048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630162024084873970" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fwNa3lh-aCnWd3H2ne1-OGS4tYSRfoBXBu9ZpEAixiG5RwY21IUrRqD70fm7SL7eb5XT_Td7yqwp4K9zJHmspiEgdlvOelE7hSI3V6HkUNG6zoPKXmgTRri029PT_tvG7AKN8ANd7_dK/s1600/DSC00054.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3fwNa3lh-aCnWd3H2ne1-OGS4tYSRfoBXBu9ZpEAixiG5RwY21IUrRqD70fm7SL7eb5XT_Td7yqwp4K9zJHmspiEgdlvOelE7hSI3V6HkUNG6zoPKXmgTRri029PT_tvG7AKN8ANd7_dK/s400/DSC00054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5630159791024092482" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:78%;">That brown dot along the tree line is a bear!</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">It ain't over 'til it's over. Summer, that is.<br /><br />As the kids these days say, I B MISSING U. That would B U, bitches.</span></div>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-82416807887355420482011-07-04T12:16:00.006-04:002012-02-24T00:41:52.361-05:00boom<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvVQy4sUNt4lmaqC2sj_i2z7ejhby0_FQLjnhGCpuskIaY130T4_zo1vzp9XC4F90bKF77Wpm_d94eLaCjN86Pjt24NTO_8MWC9fAGbDVu0HIQ1eUx4NQtbwOLRVDlXKcb4b2GbfBUGzq/s1600/YYY+3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 372px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvVQy4sUNt4lmaqC2sj_i2z7ejhby0_FQLjnhGCpuskIaY130T4_zo1vzp9XC4F90bKF77Wpm_d94eLaCjN86Pjt24NTO_8MWC9fAGbDVu0HIQ1eUx4NQtbwOLRVDlXKcb4b2GbfBUGzq/s400/YYY+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625532674730370994" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvVQy4sUNt4lmaqC2sj_i2z7ejhby0_FQLjnhGCpuskIaY130T4_zo1vzp9XC4F90bKF77Wpm_d94eLaCjN86Pjt24NTO_8MWC9fAGbDVu0HIQ1eUx4NQtbwOLRVDlXKcb4b2GbfBUGzq/s1600/YYY+3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEEblqRUQDIsv0CbTD45-HbdhLGio90UiNRKmM8FOlJhxSHHd10Ve-OPGroyfaLp-3nJBu9UTP98wiLL89OooA0BXadM62F4dBxBPwJqXJipIlK-SJFZq5SfhonzGanG2JIYjXNLBbog6J/s400/YYY+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625532678021577506" border="0" /></a><br /></div>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-13868927427087496912011-06-09T15:57:00.006-04:002011-06-09T23:31:15.827-04:00guest post: jshu<span style="font-style: italic;">A guest post from my friend </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/2010/02/mark-bittman-minimalist-club-solid-food.html"><u>jshu</u></a><span style="font-style: italic;">. He's the apple, </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/2010/08/guest-post-sueshu.html"><u>she's </u></a><span style="font-style: italic;"></span> the tree.<br /><br />When I'm on the road looking to do a little cooking for breakfast, I like to find a few simple ingredients and hunker down in the kitchen. Today I started with some butter wrapped in some attractive paper. Then I took a loaf of bread (pre-sliced) and used it as the main ingredient for Toast (put bread in toaster oven, set to medium, wait for ding, remove, put on plate with pattern that matches butter paper for a little extra flair). The trick here is to put the butter on the newly made Toast while it's as hot as it can be (I use a rounded knife that isn't sharp so I don't cut through the decorative butter paper).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXXcZqQeESijZu-u7O_pAGP8ZVbLzgl1LoqwwLxYo6dTsXg-Ajo43ZJCY8fTTMUW6KZR9UJengRa5HkAg5MX6K1C38nHHF6kTs4eUYqC5iuci7RUDhZxlR_6D-exfYlpKDrRthyCM9QKz/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggXXcZqQeESijZu-u7O_pAGP8ZVbLzgl1LoqwwLxYo6dTsXg-Ajo43ZJCY8fTTMUW6KZR9UJengRa5HkAg5MX6K1C38nHHF6kTs4eUYqC5iuci7RUDhZxlR_6D-exfYlpKDrRthyCM9QKz/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616312011300601554" border="0" /></a>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-58764974327365961002011-06-05T23:21:00.004-04:002011-06-05T23:29:12.077-04:00poof!It's the magical disappearing bl*g!<br /><br />Ta-da! We're back!<br /><br />Sorry for that. I'd planned in this post to make excuses for GFD's absence, but let's just put it this way: Life is complicated. And sometimes when life is especially complicated, one wants to disappear. One also wants to refer to herself in the third person, and one wants to sit in the dark on a bright, sunny day and watch TV. One wonders why she didn't buy light-blocking shades for her living room and, after nine months of cursing the darkness, one curses the sunlight.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJHTcnnz1sn-rf5gSJyB2QJnM5lTHrwJNuHoeHhuX7GEm4_L3oNu_C0fRQYTwq_s1hTdImMvI7qh-iIm7eiqvuJbKAzQv_RmW3SAq0pUvK7L-JpI8-ZGkDZjX61hYXptP8305ONgSZXVg/s1600/DSC00023.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 337px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyJHTcnnz1sn-rf5gSJyB2QJnM5lTHrwJNuHoeHhuX7GEm4_L3oNu_C0fRQYTwq_s1hTdImMvI7qh-iIm7eiqvuJbKAzQv_RmW3SAq0pUvK7L-JpI8-ZGkDZjX61hYXptP8305ONgSZXVg/s400/DSC00023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614938589502387698" border="0" /></a><br />Suffice it to say, I thought about you constantly in between episodes, and I have so many things to tell you. First, the shows <span style="font-style: italic;">Downton Abbey</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">The Killing </span>are perfect for watching in not-nearly-dark-enough rooms in the middle of the day. One is a British soap opera/period drama, the other will more accurately reflect your mood.<br /><br />Even more importantly, I discovered during my disappearance that making a soufflé is not some culinary trick that can be mastered only by people who are from or have traveled to France. It turns out that making a soufflé is easy as pie. Much easier than pie, actually, the making of which is a culinary trick that can only be mastered by people who are grandmothers.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrt_-P0gK5eY2a66VuJ08dla2KpT099vJe4OBbX6MIMSWPgj5YONzktlhSKHV5l9W-OubzmjzMFZCFT-57N-yjX0GcGRYD_5FVvpxGp9owC0rG6sQZfdLrkrRYJh7JzjBEcYAVdFICftC/s1600/P1000664.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnrt_-P0gK5eY2a66VuJ08dla2KpT099vJe4OBbX6MIMSWPgj5YONzktlhSKHV5l9W-OubzmjzMFZCFT-57N-yjX0GcGRYD_5FVvpxGp9owC0rG6sQZfdLrkrRYJh7JzjBEcYAVdFICftC/s400/P1000664.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5614942449192379954" border="0" /></a><br />And not only is soufflé easy, it's total comfort food (eggy and airy and savory) while also being the epitome of fine dining (c. 1972 maybe, but I'm predicting a comeback; you read it here first). But perhaps the best, and most surprising, thing about soufflé is that YOU CAN REHEAT IT AND EAT IT FOR BREAKFAST. And then you can walk directly to the couch and start watching TV.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.burlingtonfreepress.com/article/20110529/GREEN01/105290302/-1/FOOD/Fresh-ingredients-combine-into-perfect-souffle"><u>This recipe</u></a> is delicious, although the newspaper in which it was published doesn't appear to use a proofreader, who surely would have noticed that the writer lists egg yolks in the ingredients but never explains what to do with them. So <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Goat-Cheese-Souffles-102423"><u>this recipe</u></a> will be useful for figuring out what to do with yolks, unless you are from or have traveled to France, in which case you already know.<br /><br />I missed you, bitches.gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-5885443946293724272011-05-16T22:56:00.008-04:002011-06-04T13:29:19.182-04:00sprungThis year, April was in like a lion, out like a duck. April showers didn’t just bring May flowers, they brought a friggin’ flood. And it’s still raining. Our lake is swollen with rain and runoff, its cup runneth over into parking lots and basements, across lawns and roads and ferry docks. But it’s finally, fully spring—that’s rain, not snow, falling from the sky. Trees are shaggy with nascent leaves, the dark purple cones of lilacs are opening their tiny florets, there’s asparagus to be had at the farmers market.<br /><br />This being Vermont in May, asparagus is just about all there is to be had at the farmers market, but I’m not complaining. Instead I’m browsing months-old “spring” issues of cooking magazines that arrived in my mailbox when the sidewalks were still covered by a carapace of ice, I’m flipping past recipes that call for fava beans and strawberries, English peas and new potatoes—the only potatoes at my farmers market are <i>old</i> potatoes. Asparagus is the star of the show right now, and since I know we have awhile to get reacquainted, I’m keeping it simple to start off.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0g4fNarigm0rcvddIHFyUo6b-xeNZehg7tBQstwboTTD3B7O5qOyKLluoBabwOTDVpIjD4FI0MKk4gL0YE_RfkIa8VTNn3GnjghK19KIWJZBdL29Mv7gafWG1uzH2UodPnlRd01Cnko4/s1600/DSC09998.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG0g4fNarigm0rcvddIHFyUo6b-xeNZehg7tBQstwboTTD3B7O5qOyKLluoBabwOTDVpIjD4FI0MKk4gL0YE_RfkIa8VTNn3GnjghK19KIWJZBdL29Mv7gafWG1uzH2UodPnlRd01Cnko4/s400/DSC09998.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606720090232841826" border="0" /></a><br />Asparagus, raw, shaved into silky ribbons. A dressing of lemon juice and olive oil. Parmesan cheese. Salt and pepper.<br /><br />The recipe I found for <a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Shaved-Asparagus-with-Parmesan-Vinaigrette-365194"><u>shaved asparagus salad</u></a> is from <span style="font-style: italic;">Bon Appetit</span>. When I described it to my stepmom, she said she’d made <a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2011/05/ribboned-asparagus-salad-with-lemon/"><u>something similar</u></a> after reading about it on Smitten Kitchen. Smitten’s version includes toasted pine nuts, which I think would be a nice, if expensive, touch, but what I love about this recipe is its simplicity—I don’t have to <i style="">cook</i> anything (or, the way it usually goes when I toast nuts, <i style="">burn</i> anything). And I love it’s taste, of course. The shaved asparagus is delicate, almost creamy, complemented but in no way overpowered by a simple dressing. Be liberal with the salt and pepper. And don’t be nervous about the fact that the asparagus is raw; there’s nothing woody about it, nothing tough. Winter’s over, and this recipe is pure, tender spring.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUF-UY5ft_LMTG4rxjz7Y82eziX1pe03TCs90Rba3CO92Sy03KqIlbjBl4Pm2QOZiYV_ec8OoeP4oJD12a4wEvGEgGCWFCq5GlpCzQvGBBl98JjC_QBfZsm81Z7aqdmlWMFrjWrcmO5yrf/s1600/DSC00012.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUF-UY5ft_LMTG4rxjz7Y82eziX1pe03TCs90Rba3CO92Sy03KqIlbjBl4Pm2QOZiYV_ec8OoeP4oJD12a4wEvGEgGCWFCq5GlpCzQvGBBl98JjC_QBfZsm81Z7aqdmlWMFrjWrcmO5yrf/s400/DSC00012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5606720096692173586" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Notes: I ate individual portions of the salad for lunch over several days—3 spears of asparagus and ¼ of the dressing. While the dressing can be made ahead of time, I don't think I recommend peeling the asparagus in advance. And I used a combination of Parmesan and Locatelli cheeses.<br /><br /><div><b>Shaved Asparagus Salad</b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>Adapted from </i><a href="http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Shaved-Asparagus-with-Parmesan-Vinaigrette-365194"><u>Bon Appetit</u></a></span></b></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b>12 large asparagus spears (about 1 pound)<br />¼ cup finely grated Parmesan plus a piece for shaving<br />1½ tablespoons fresh lemon juice<br />¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil<br />Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper<br /><br />Peel off the outer, dark-green layer of asparagus using a vegetable peeler, and discard it, along with the ends of the spears if they’re tough (mine were not). Use the vegetable peeler to shave the spears into long, thin ribbons, saving the tips as they break off. Transfer shaved asparagus and tips to a bowl.<br /><br />Combine grated cheese, lemon juice, olive oil, and salt and pepper in a small container with a tightly fitting lid. Shake vigorously until the oil is emulsified and season with additional salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle vinaigrette over shaved asparagus and toss to coat. Divide asparagus salad among plates. Use peeler to shave more cheese over salad.</div>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-56162109184014786762011-05-14T12:55:00.016-04:002011-06-04T13:29:24.889-04:00cookies: they're what's for breakfastBehold my favorite cookies!<br /><br />The salty oat,<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06MSoxmP06UDxdBhGeflbNhdpmkrJQRvN1gwyZ_YJDnVwHMH1tBccqWA0QVyV46TEdSGakUIGSxH47lU97F2G383HilOfvCuq-KhnPoQAgYSoHIniXIWIVqQpRprxYy7mvdPl45MAaYG3/s1600/DSC00023.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 368px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi06MSoxmP06UDxdBhGeflbNhdpmkrJQRvN1gwyZ_YJDnVwHMH1tBccqWA0QVyV46TEdSGakUIGSxH47lU97F2G383HilOfvCuq-KhnPoQAgYSoHIniXIWIVqQpRprxYy7mvdPl45MAaYG3/s400/DSC00023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605921819124358562" border="0" /></a><br />and its younger sibling, the chocolate salty oat.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoO5gYqiDsRRRYLMtauOtjy0BlKrFJxL6zZianfUBsVDa0gp8Tjrrw5C5W2m4_nSl38DON5uvqzcmYjYl1oGprBHXD56CT9twHm3Yspryjep-w6v3lSQ9G2kJoQ62UNxbg_q-wQ6SF-6QD/s1600/DSC00022.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 369px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoO5gYqiDsRRRYLMtauOtjy0BlKrFJxL6zZianfUBsVDa0gp8Tjrrw5C5W2m4_nSl38DON5uvqzcmYjYl1oGprBHXD56CT9twHm3Yspryjep-w6v3lSQ9G2kJoQ62UNxbg_q-wQ6SF-6QD/s400/DSC00022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605921815397057026" border="0" /></a><br />Because it contains oats and raisins, the salty oat is health food and constitutes a nutritious breakfast or lunch. Because it's chocolate, the chocolate salty oat is suitable for dessert.<br /><br />I discovered these cookies while living in DC—a friend recommended I try a salty oat, I refused (raisins, blech), he insisted, I acquiesced (did I really need to be talked into eating a cookie?), and the rest is buttery, salty, oat-y history. Just before we moved back to Vermont, the chocolate salty oat was invented; I once again resisted (shredded coconut, blech), was forced against my will to try a bite, and the rest is <span>chocolaty,</span> salty, oat-y history. Now I buy a bundle of cookies whenever we visit Washington, as we did last weekend. I think you know what I've been eating for breakfast, lunch, and dessert since we returned home. And it turns out <a href="http://kayakcookies.com/index.html"><u>salty oats can be ordered online</u></a>. <a href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/2009/09/puppies.html"><u>Cookies for breakfast</u></a> for everyone!gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-1275249068733720242011-05-09T23:07:00.009-04:002011-06-04T13:29:28.642-04:00the return of fridge pornIf you haven't been reading GFD from the beginning (if you're not my mom, basically), you probably don't know about fridge porn. It all started when I found <a href="http://www.good.is/post/picture-show-you-are-what-you-eat/?GT1=48001"><u>this amazing photo essay</u></a>, after which <a href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-should-see-condiments.html"><u>I showed you mine</u></a>, and <a href="http://gruelfordinner.blogspot.com/search/label/fridge%20porn"><u>you showed me yours</u></a>. Now, nearly two years later, bl*g reader J Quizzle is showing us his (click the photo to enlarge).<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JGYEmV79EsQFUzSwvVkGGPCuSS5cMKNSrHmyMDvEVJWlZxyZh3CH1E8EU7LvsfvQWUox_-8Zon9hdeG7Je601QsAs15RjNC4pwRZ1XZHoSmH0KRo2hj9yg7ufOYcAhjRmme-K05HW9ci/s1600/j+quizzles+fridge.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-JGYEmV79EsQFUzSwvVkGGPCuSS5cMKNSrHmyMDvEVJWlZxyZh3CH1E8EU7LvsfvQWUox_-8Zon9hdeG7Je601QsAs15RjNC4pwRZ1XZHoSmH0KRo2hj9yg7ufOYcAhjRmme-K05HW9ci/s400/j+quizzles+fridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604913205815750866" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;">Writer/Educator/Nomad | Nashville, TN | 1-person + imaginary primordial dwarf household | Suffers from seasonal affective disorder in spring. | May 9, 2011<br /></span></div><br />Don't wait two years: Go to your refrigerator right now, take a photo of what's inside, write a caption, and send it to gruelfordinner [at] gmail [dot] com to satiate all of us peeping fridge pervs. Or this peeping fridge perv, anyway.<br /><br />(Speaking of pervs, around the same time I started putting up photos and calling them fridge porn, I wrote a post in which I used the word "granny"; the number of people who subsequently ended up at GFD after Googling the term "granny porn" was rather alarming. Who knew? I wish I didn't.)gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-79357294355935418552011-05-02T23:15:00.006-04:002011-06-04T13:29:32.937-04:00i'm telling you anywayOh, friends, is this what we've been reduced to? Two weeks without a post followed by a recipe for quesadillas? You don't need me to tell you how to make a quesadilla any more than you need me to tell you how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. But here we go: Spinach and Caramelized Onion Quesadillas.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkJHrih5hAFdF7oiJe_AJ6b1FI2QmNS6U-VwJIJxdgaJKQlACCQaFwtDkIs6NUALnuwLcaNtLodACObT-Afm-SFj8rsV8hX4RwGyXvL8PXyz1PQaQKhaISkmfP0Ge953ic5owb5Otvgww/s1600/DSC_0121.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivkJHrih5hAFdF7oiJe_AJ6b1FI2QmNS6U-VwJIJxdgaJKQlACCQaFwtDkIs6NUALnuwLcaNtLodACObT-Afm-SFj8rsV8hX4RwGyXvL8PXyz1PQaQKhaISkmfP0Ge953ic5owb5Otvgww/s400/DSC_0121.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602319624553520946" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I'm not making excuses when I tell you that these quesadillas are more than just cheese melted between a couple of tortillas. Or when I tell you this recipe is actually a riff on one I read in a cookbook years ago (apparently <i>someone </i>needed a recipe for quesadillas). Or that the presence of caramelized onions transforms these from your average gooey Tex Mex snack into something a little more, shall we say, gourmet.<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The presence of caramelized onions also transforms these from a quick bite into something that requires a little more time to make: The onions should be cooked for a long time over low heat, until they're sweet, soft echoes of their former pungent, eye-watering selves. But it's so worth it. Not just because you end up with a shall-we-say-gourmet quesadilla, but because if you play your tortillas right, you'll end up with leftovers, which reheat beautifully. Serve with a little diced avocado and salsa, maybe a side salad, and you've got the perfect weeknight meal; eat the leftovers for lunch, or as a quick, gooey not-quite-Tex-Mex snack.<br /><br />A few notes:<br />* I know I promised a recipe above, but this is more of a guide, as I never measure or time anything when making these (they are, after all, quesadillas), and you should vary the amounts to reflect your tastes. That said, the onions cook down quite a bit in volume, and their flavor is so mild and sweet, I can't imagine you'd want to use <span style="font-style: italic;">less</span> than the recommended two.<br />* Because I actually love whole-wheat tortillas, that's what I use; if you prefer white or corn, use those.<br />* I usually serve these with diced avocado and <a href="http://www.herdeztraditions.com/herdez/salsa_casera.aspx"><u>my favorite salsa</u></a>, but you could mash the avocado with lime juice and salt, or, god forbid, exert a little more effort and make actual guacamole.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXJYyWRpAPgZNSgwhHF-pniwfOLJDp6Nsdsq8c_7aMZq6e9Bn_6rNvbg-cTC1ecAp4pVe7i8AZ82AJ8fVV0dYVaKoHiQvFkLhASXDDdovsxn68r2S0iJ62h2t2KdVW229FABIJX792Q9r/s1600/DSC_0080.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 244px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnXJYyWRpAPgZNSgwhHF-pniwfOLJDp6Nsdsq8c_7aMZq6e9Bn_6rNvbg-cTC1ecAp4pVe7i8AZ82AJ8fVV0dYVaKoHiQvFkLhASXDDdovsxn68r2S0iJ62h2t2KdVW229FABIJX792Q9r/s400/DSC_0080.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602319614722873490" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Spinach and Caramelized Onion Quesadillas</span><br />1 tablespoon + a splash of olive oil<br />2 large yellow onions, halved and thinly sliced<br />pinch of salt<br />5 ounces baby spinach<br />8 medium-sized tortillas (not the huge-ass ones, not the teeny tiny ones)<br />5 ounces shredded cheddar or Jack cheese<br />1 avocado, cubed<br /><br />Heat the olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the onions, sprinkle with salt, and stir to coat the onions with oil. Reduce the heat to low-ish and cook for a long time (~30-45 minutes), stirring occasionally (if after a few minutes you hear any sizzling, the heat is too high). The onions will soften and yellow and start to break down; when they're very soft and golden colored, they're done. Remove them from the pan and chop them coarsely.<br /><br />Add another splash of oil to the pan, turn the heat to high, and when the oil is shimmering, quickly saute the spinach. Remove it to a plate and drain off any excess liquid.<br /><br />Assemble the quesadillas: Lay out four tortillas and sprinkle them with cheese, the chopped onions, and the spinach, then place another tortilla on top. Cook quesadillas individually in a your skillet over medium heat (no oil necessary), turning once, until the tortilla is lightly browned and the cheese is melted. Remove from pan, cut into sixths, and serve with avocado.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2S-uQkF8XCxgcAhgm7kWwv0LHKgltSxSJ9M7PD3x-0JDhZf7AoJdNlJY263cfy6K25Jp-xWtOiijRD2_fkl6TDZXmOa3lVHVIfyjNiKQVmnZKwzYu94BotyjrduuMHCffoS62mdEhdvYp/s1600/DSC_0108.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 331px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2S-uQkF8XCxgcAhgm7kWwv0LHKgltSxSJ9M7PD3x-0JDhZf7AoJdNlJY263cfy6K25Jp-xWtOiijRD2_fkl6TDZXmOa3lVHVIfyjNiKQVmnZKwzYu94BotyjrduuMHCffoS62mdEhdvYp/s400/DSC_0108.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602319616171386962" border="0" /></a><br /></div>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-65730411574641680052011-04-18T23:15:00.004-04:002011-06-04T13:29:39.271-04:00a sign of springOr at least a sign that the anniversary of Our Lord Jesus Christ's resurrection from the dead is just around the corner: my Greek stepmother's koulouria, delicious little biscuit-like cookies that have something, I have no idea what, to do with Easter.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUoVA6tXdsGZ4LXHO21dw8y0folvgDLRaF2muYMgF5SEZWxQuyvZdJmYfcLpZHx9-KHGc3TcDfy2Bpe3HwceEvcdPSGIJGFlP-R9CqW0ytuBl0Oen8oH9qNlhLgApY-9zoVIf5C-iAL6O/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 302px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCUoVA6tXdsGZ4LXHO21dw8y0folvgDLRaF2muYMgF5SEZWxQuyvZdJmYfcLpZHx9-KHGc3TcDfy2Bpe3HwceEvcdPSGIJGFlP-R9CqW0ytuBl0Oen8oH9qNlhLgApY-9zoVIf5C-iAL6O/s400/DSC_0095.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5597128103267797794" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVpxhs7xwVnWfAzFDvei2Gt2e5eOZWGlY4p8SRNLtZHKSc5lG5EaZEqAeWz_7qKlBNkHSkqWPehvAJ_bJCusDPDKZovJDGZ49PwKwuvdkLiNgQFvODY_XSWwWK3QqPIP2ingN6xZLUIk3i/s1600/DSC_0095.JPG"><br /></a>(I just realized that Jesus was a zombie; I also realized that, in spite of the fact that I attended Catholic church every Sunday growing up and went weekly to CCD, I cannot for the life of me recall what Jesus did after he rose from the dead—I'm assuming he didn't eat anyone's brains [I'd definitely remember that]; MAYBE HE ATE KOULOURIA?!?)gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-66661553936221126262011-04-13T21:30:00.007-04:002011-06-04T13:29:44.151-04:00please send help<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXi4kw34G-3FT5CvbD_XqJaxBj1y_Szqa-vjSJduuBwiqfyMK0JbylaMfkLOoESbo6oveEkfbrlTJkH-KGxz8f6GQCho8DMTLvf4Mf6qZPNJO2PrLixDREXQ9F5UEVt2VJDchi4prtr2np/s1600/DSC_0104.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXi4kw34G-3FT5CvbD_XqJaxBj1y_Szqa-vjSJduuBwiqfyMK0JbylaMfkLOoESbo6oveEkfbrlTJkH-KGxz8f6GQCho8DMTLvf4Mf6qZPNJO2PrLixDREXQ9F5UEVt2VJDchi4prtr2np/s400/DSC_0104.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595246439740561586" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt9gZ4tyXEglsjOpM6LENBP3AbsTL0Pw5ae430ax5aw10uHnpkPOA8SiTtBWIm4xoMCxabqfAwdMA7KgNKJDa1g75sdDx72u3ck6ah76emGdkWRLICKUk42XYYQznKcOl-7TfMjpm2UkI/s1600/DSC_0140.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a>Warning: The recipe I’m about to share with you does not qualify as gruel: It is not healthy. It does not include any vegetables to speak of, and no whole grains. It is not a soup, nor is it a stew. And there’s bacon involved.<br /><br />The bacon is, in fact, deeply involved. I had imagined creating a vegetarian version of this recipe, but the pork products weren’t having it: The bacon is holding a gun to my head while the bacon fat writes up a list of demands, which include a fueled jet, $1,000,000 in unmarked bills, and not to be left off this ingredient list.<br /><br />I wish I could blame the bacon for my behavior the first time I ate this dish, which was served by my mother-in-law as an appetizer, a little puff-pastry pizza topped with, well, bacon, tiny chunks of apple, and blue cheese, drizzled with honey, and sprinkled with shallots that had been cooked in, well, bacon fat. But it wasn’t just for the bacon that I ate my share of the pizza, and then more than my share, and then, feeling sheepish but unable to stop myself, all that was left without offering anyone the last piece. It was the combination of flavors that was so addictive: salty and smoky and sweet, slightly sharp from the blue cheese. A combination from which the bacon should not be omitted, or the bacon will kill its hostage.<br /><br /><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Smoky-Sweet Puff-Pastry Pizza</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Adapted from <a href="http://afarmerinthedell.com/2010/12/17/the-aftermath/"><u>A Farmer in the Dell</u></a></span><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">1 sheet Pepperidge Farm puff-pastry dough</p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">4 slices bacon</p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">1 shallot, minced</p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">1 tablespoon honey, plus more for drizzling</p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">a handful of mozzarella cheese</p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">a handful of Gorgonzola cheese</p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">½ of 1 apple, diced</p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">1. Thaw puff pastry according to package instructions and preheat the oven to 400 degrees. When the puff pastry is soft, roll it out on a lightly floured surface into a rectangle and transfer to a large baking sheet. Fold the edges over about ½ inch, press the border with the back of a fork, and brush the border with water. Poke holes in the rest of the dough with the tines of a fork.</p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNgE0wiztfSFUSw2ECB7lL4OQ8mqy9VEOZR1fBdZUywOopnWXacIn6geu-J6m3n46sfhuOqD242u6wIdwbRZQGtnnjTUdUVRx0dceTRvhY5d82To_o_AyuVyMyCtbGrD-MFw-zv98Y2UX/s1600/DSC_0090.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNgE0wiztfSFUSw2ECB7lL4OQ8mqy9VEOZR1fBdZUywOopnWXacIn6geu-J6m3n46sfhuOqD242u6wIdwbRZQGtnnjTUdUVRx0dceTRvhY5d82To_o_AyuVyMyCtbGrD-MFw-zv98Y2UX/s400/DSC_0090.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595246433070673922" border="0" /></a></p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"> </p> <p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">2. Fry the bacon in a skillet, remove from the pan, and drain on paper towels, then chop or tear into bite-sized pieces. Add the shallot to the bacon fat in the pan and sauté until almost translucent, add honey and stir until the honey is thin, then pour the mixture over the puff pastry. Sprinkle the pastry with mozzarella cheese, apple, and Gorgonzola crumbles, then drizzle with a little more honey. Cook at 400 degrees for 15–20 minutes, until the edges are just golden.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">This could be served as a very unhealthy and ungruel-like dinner with a side salad, or do as my mother-in-law did and cut it into squares and serve as an appetizer, preferably to people who will not bogart the whole thing. Whatever you do, please, please don't leave out the bacon.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt9gZ4tyXEglsjOpM6LENBP3AbsTL0Pw5ae430ax5aw10uHnpkPOA8SiTtBWIm4xoMCxabqfAwdMA7KgNKJDa1g75sdDx72u3ck6ah76emGdkWRLICKUk42XYYQznKcOl-7TfMjpm2UkI/s1600/DSC_0140.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFt9gZ4tyXEglsjOpM6LENBP3AbsTL0Pw5ae430ax5aw10uHnpkPOA8SiTtBWIm4xoMCxabqfAwdMA7KgNKJDa1g75sdDx72u3ck6ah76emGdkWRLICKUk42XYYQznKcOl-7TfMjpm2UkI/s400/DSC_0140.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595246440120981138" border="0" /></a></p>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-23322657753043678822011-04-11T08:58:00.007-04:002011-06-04T13:29:48.764-04:00extra! extra!Thanks to the lovely Cheryl Herrick of <a href="http://crankycakes.com/"><u>Cranky Cakes</u></a> fame for including me in her <span style="font-style: italic;">Burlington Free Press </span>article about making fabulous food on a budget.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkUlbaC1wM4XUJLi6aQos5ZZdlwdoMfulK8HC5x1LQjASjEkwxMJni78SlhwdfBdNZgT-YFr3ub7I40FDlmh_NjjgDIG_HHUfuxm42ha3olsPxPce0LQn72cyI7x-bAKLz_Ah2HoN0xQE/s1600/DSC_0087.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMkUlbaC1wM4XUJLi6aQos5ZZdlwdoMfulK8HC5x1LQjASjEkwxMJni78SlhwdfBdNZgT-YFr3ub7I40FDlmh_NjjgDIG_HHUfuxm42ha3olsPxPce0LQn72cyI7x-bAKLz_Ah2HoN0xQE/s400/DSC_0087.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594316023969051714" border="0" /></a><br />If you're interested, you can read the article <a href="http://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/article/20110408/LIVING06/110407016/Beyond-rice-beans-Local-chefs-share-strategies-fabulous-food-budget-?odyssey=nav%7Chead"><u>here</u></a>, but I must warn you, she spells the word <span style="font-style: italic;">bl*g </span>with an o instead of an asterisk. The recipe I contributed (soup, naturally) is <a href="http://www.burlingtonfreepress.com/article/20110408/LIVING06/110407017/-1/TOPICS0503/Recipe-Roasted-cauliflower-Gorgonzola-soup-caramelized-balsamic-onions"><u>here</u></a>.gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-87252323774693560522011-04-07T11:20:00.005-04:002011-06-04T13:29:53.844-04:00once upon a time<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUerJ2RFlVsk1SrtWzBRDL2ZXC19MA3l_mHwupnW5pLg1tUC1RS3GbOOuBiSi493OptiiZg_lfhqQquzz6gtHcfsKYUzKad0uiGw1u-wELoP_VR2mMKj284sq7-W9nH8C_Sc6UNFqh3zeV/s1600/DSC_0083.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUerJ2RFlVsk1SrtWzBRDL2ZXC19MA3l_mHwupnW5pLg1tUC1RS3GbOOuBiSi493OptiiZg_lfhqQquzz6gtHcfsKYUzKad0uiGw1u-wELoP_VR2mMKj284sq7-W9nH8C_Sc6UNFqh3zeV/s400/DSC_0083.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592859164143083794" border="0" /></a><br />Would you believe me if I told you that I’d traded the family bovine for these magical beans, which when planted grew into a beanstalk so tall it disappeared into the clouds?<br /><br />No? What about this: I spent a few shekels on a handful of garbanzos, simmered them in water with some rosemary, half an onion, and a Parmesan rind, added a couple of vegetables to the cooking broth, garnished the whole mess with a gremolata of sorts, and ended up with a soup so deeply flavorful, soon after I sat down to eat there was a giant banging on my door, yelling, “Fee, fi, fo, fum, I smell soup, and I want some!”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2l1uhf7zS8IF2H5AyJsyjjzK2YODW2Z4CrGS_uAavsbFjBe0Iix4gEKGW2ohR9oB4RqHNHzGZCZueXgHVTKjYlAA2W7TstFP8FqFTX86oxUT1xNB87_Nuusklfdry5aqc-aFpXdy9-A86/s1600/DSC_0017.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2l1uhf7zS8IF2H5AyJsyjjzK2YODW2Z4CrGS_uAavsbFjBe0Iix4gEKGW2ohR9oB4RqHNHzGZCZueXgHVTKjYlAA2W7TstFP8FqFTX86oxUT1xNB87_Nuusklfdry5aqc-aFpXdy9-A86/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592859157264883250" border="0" /></a><br />If you want to live happily ever after, or at least have a nice dinner on a frosty “spring” evening, make <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/30/dining/30apperex.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=chickpeas&st=cse"><u>this soup</u></a>. It’s so simple, and frigging delicious. I’d share the entire recipe here, but I fear that if I post one more thing from the <i style="">New York Times</i>, the paper is gonna sue me, leaving me without any shekels to buy magical beans. Everything you need to know can be found <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/03/30/dining/30apperex.html?_r=1&scp=3&sq=chickpeas&st=cse"><u>here</u></a>.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbloqdbJfy2yrRLHSdojiWKlYEuFhSSl6TA0mqtGV9pg-NAs1plFW3Pfhw4iyDzcnYidByJ5CjWDUbAUxwxfpNbt8c3CBPKxD_S4KPtrbcfJJQ9l7OlQGvJjYcEZKE5NfuM5X88S0-f5sY/s1600/DSC_0101.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbloqdbJfy2yrRLHSdojiWKlYEuFhSSl6TA0mqtGV9pg-NAs1plFW3Pfhw4iyDzcnYidByJ5CjWDUbAUxwxfpNbt8c3CBPKxD_S4KPtrbcfJJQ9l7OlQGvJjYcEZKE5NfuM5X88S0-f5sY/s400/DSC_0101.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592859162001210066" border="0" /></a>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-61967430768404169422011-04-04T11:15:00.008-04:002011-06-04T13:29:59.249-04:00stop staring at my grapefruit<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2CtJaTj7Eqk-yjUdpwqktCeHcScX6INtE1HTJQL4kU8uL1Yw8ObxQF6u_kHVVmv_UfzIjMlsHuuSvtkeNABkNF0lBARLkIgPo_bx2zkn7JkhqfpcBiqYqD_G3JnR8ipyuQEnkiv74I1S/s1600/DSC_0088.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib2CtJaTj7Eqk-yjUdpwqktCeHcScX6INtE1HTJQL4kU8uL1Yw8ObxQF6u_kHVVmv_UfzIjMlsHuuSvtkeNABkNF0lBARLkIgPo_bx2zkn7JkhqfpcBiqYqD_G3JnR8ipyuQEnkiv74I1S/s400/DSC_0088.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591745812829353330" border="0" /></a><br />I swore to myself that I wasn't going to complain on this bl*g anymore about the weather, but so far this morning it has snowed, sleeted, and freezing rained. I guess I should be grateful there are no locusts falling from the sky, but it's early yet.<br /><br />What I am grateful for are the 21 grapefruit that I <a href="http://redcooper.com/"><u>ordered online</u></a> because my mother-in-law convinced me they are better than the ones at the grocery store (she's right). And I convinced myself that this winter citrus grown in West Texas is a sign of spring in Vermont.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xsFFMYqndIycLOzQwRli2WNPIGMhjnCgt3HIWqtq40cl5iZQeg70XelT9yK9c93OpIaL1cWx7QyyAv27O388DzLzQ5WuOgKZJQAwxNygSx3yKT8JyXvPdKWJq56L3jTcL2J-VXHg3bok/s1600/DSC_0097.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xsFFMYqndIycLOzQwRli2WNPIGMhjnCgt3HIWqtq40cl5iZQeg70XelT9yK9c93OpIaL1cWx7QyyAv27O388DzLzQ5WuOgKZJQAwxNygSx3yKT8JyXvPdKWJq56L3jTcL2J-VXHg3bok/s400/DSC_0097.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591745807499493314" border="0" /></a>What they are is a delusion of spring. A juicy, delicious, shockingly sweet delusion, but a delusion nonetheless. In other news, it's 11:15 a.m., and there's not a locust in sight.gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-22557513821894089432011-03-28T00:06:00.005-04:002011-06-04T13:30:03.517-04:00my muse has a first name, it's c-h-e-s-t-e-rHow mad are you going to be if this turns into a bl*g entirely about Chester?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihwqhAh0tGgAnY5DpDO5PUf26wEJRiTlhRQy2Mt1ENegpDdkeIPly9MQLQTkVLjG3kueSA1SVYiLCNXfpL0viLPDw0I-c84WdaD7RVxqvMXFaGRA8vHBvUHVGHSQPevZqj1v6rgXl3aMLM/s1600/DSC_0129.JPG"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1BWY5GZWqW1EPzUBhFhbCq5uONSwxHQuNPaYorUwa_qwHEaRshtaiufxvm9I1uQTzE3YeEvVzW5mh7ElwgfUYbS1mD2L0SUgARjSqpeNsrh_ztcBuBRbioEMiT7mWkUaz2olVadTBhKn/s1600/DSC_0150.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp1BWY5GZWqW1EPzUBhFhbCq5uONSwxHQuNPaYorUwa_qwHEaRshtaiufxvm9I1uQTzE3YeEvVzW5mh7ElwgfUYbS1mD2L0SUgARjSqpeNsrh_ztcBuBRbioEMiT7mWkUaz2olVadTBhKn/s400/DSC_0150.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588820691633847554" border="0" /></a><br />Vermont in March: The snow has melted to reveal dead grass and frozen mud; a bounty of dog poop and cigarette butts; cardboard, beer cans, and Sunday circulars that have blown out of recycling bins. My muse and I walk by the lake most days, where the ice has broken up and smashed into one corner of the bay. It's gorgeous and bitterly cold, which is what I aspire to be, as well. My muse aspires to pee on <i>every single bush and tree</i> lining the waterfront.<div><br /></div><div>At the local neighborhood co-op, where my muse is not allowed to shop, the staff daily rearrange the same old local vegetables in an attempt to convince consumers that butternut squash is a novelty item. I buy cauliflower, watercress, and walnuts from distant lands and wonder what my muse is doing. </div><div><br /></div><div>What my muse is doing:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3teX9_Hv0N-U5glRK2EYwLZy9wXrLyNYMoY4c211QsADDf89Jvqb-IGYbH3ZjjbSu0IF1Jnp0liAfTRWzniHBaEPTsNYsAJbiltAPLZu1sjlhGGZrCTl8p2LZtd44PkTuCnejyHOEUZb9/s1600/DSC_0139.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3teX9_Hv0N-U5glRK2EYwLZy9wXrLyNYMoY4c211QsADDf89Jvqb-IGYbH3ZjjbSu0IF1Jnp0liAfTRWzniHBaEPTsNYsAJbiltAPLZu1sjlhGGZrCTl8p2LZtd44PkTuCnejyHOEUZb9/s400/DSC_0139.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588820686634366050" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div>At home I spend a couple of hours gazing at my muse as he sleeps. Then I cut the cauliflower into florets for roasting and wonder if there will ever be flowers here.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXskzDfkUb_NpAoUS_YVZJH2nOzLzssjTEco1nAUZwIvhubVOCE6_viKIY-uo6vGOzUlwiNUwKLx0hzLQELH09vJXk9HVZ4G4B9wPuXlz_ZvrobfaYdv7TgRfzfB7RXtmstGbH-d1TFH3/s1600/DSC_0124.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXskzDfkUb_NpAoUS_YVZJH2nOzLzssjTEco1nAUZwIvhubVOCE6_viKIY-uo6vGOzUlwiNUwKLx0hzLQELH09vJXk9HVZ4G4B9wPuXlz_ZvrobfaYdv7TgRfzfB7RXtmstGbH-d1TFH3/s400/DSC_0124.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588820674829722930" border="0" /></a><br />While my cauliflower roasts, I compose a poem called "Ode to a Sleeping Dog...Seriously, Chester, That's My Pillow. The One I Put My Head On at Night."<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>My muse cares not for roasted cauliflower.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFD-fVIuzOPFVvY3257zrJaXdKCnXDu69RxGriLwXXFbM1afZ8-McvgE_mbdLv4slgFyQE-j-kohbLxB-I2rbUN4NB0NKsCBs16u5WVaZsO34F0BSLCLaJUQpm_Q-21oNp5IS_L1znIIP/s1600/DSC_0186.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEFD-fVIuzOPFVvY3257zrJaXdKCnXDu69RxGriLwXXFbM1afZ8-McvgE_mbdLv4slgFyQE-j-kohbLxB-I2rbUN4NB0NKsCBs16u5WVaZsO34F0BSLCLaJUQpm_Q-21oNp5IS_L1znIIP/s400/DSC_0186.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588970898287941154" border="0" /></a><br />I set it aside to cool for a few minutes and toast some walnuts and make the dressing, while my muse does yoga (Extended Dog Pose).<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXoazPChM_j-MThAAym7AZrLd2fQ9PH69AKADXLdVZFxDB0K1SR6VQJeWxuuAsPOiCPUTflOQQy9yLOF7KBbTPkzm3k8UKzUs4cfwZyfg7tSMIcLLCvnTHaFkagn_AwGT7MjI41isi7SfO/s1600/DSC_0154.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 285px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXoazPChM_j-MThAAym7AZrLd2fQ9PH69AKADXLdVZFxDB0K1SR6VQJeWxuuAsPOiCPUTflOQQy9yLOF7KBbTPkzm3k8UKzUs4cfwZyfg7tSMIcLLCvnTHaFkagn_AwGT7MjI41isi7SfO/s400/DSC_0154.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588970900177691826" border="0" /></a><br />Seriously, how mad are you? My muse and I want to know. </div><div><br />He eats kibble, I partake of Roasted Cauliflower and Watercress Salad and pine for blossoming trees, an iceless lake and squashless grocery store, my muse running through fields of wildflowers, his ears flapping in the gentle breeze. I'm going to be waiting until June, because it turns out Vermont skips spring entirely and after an extended winter moves right into summer. Until then, Roasted Cauliflower and Watercress salad: The cauliflower, still warm, ever so slightly wilts the watercress. A slick gloss of sherry vinaigrette. Toasted walnuts. A little cheese.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcdc0O922kNbOyabGGs1RrDEroEtH3gL1TziVTHhUnXzxLOMO9gyqDG_Zc_hJnWyHaE5cr5KPsz7xEOX5KOOLCGdWwWvYO1hn7tdSc3m-T8ixYIJ5ozPEa5NWbNystNbToTF_ITF2tr03/s1600/DSC_0223.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWcdc0O922kNbOyabGGs1RrDEroEtH3gL1TziVTHhUnXzxLOMO9gyqDG_Zc_hJnWyHaE5cr5KPsz7xEOX5KOOLCGdWwWvYO1hn7tdSc3m-T8ixYIJ5ozPEa5NWbNystNbToTF_ITF2tr03/s400/DSC_0223.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588970887191122626" border="0" /></a><br /></div>My muse recommends the kibble.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-wAUD49aX1KnMnhYgZmFN_evDY4PXB3n614CAxXCA70nFtFmTOMZceWqObNbqCrst5tKkRiNrEvM0m2KxhwRqVs_QIdaLolGj-PQ0bDfJjkOdnuRRjeZ6OVV9rb9z6QdSPF6ILGVJTIH/s1600/DSC_0122.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 345px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5-wAUD49aX1KnMnhYgZmFN_evDY4PXB3n614CAxXCA70nFtFmTOMZceWqObNbqCrst5tKkRiNrEvM0m2KxhwRqVs_QIdaLolGj-PQ0bDfJjkOdnuRRjeZ6OVV9rb9z6QdSPF6ILGVJTIH/s400/DSC_0122.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588820679009203074" border="0" /></a><br /><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Roasted Cauliflower and Watercress Salad</span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Adapted from my girl Melissa Clark at the </span><u><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2011/01/05/dining/05apperex.html?_r=1&scp=1&sq=roasted%20cauliflower&st=cse">New York Times</a></u><br /></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;">I've eaten this salad, and variations on it, many times over the past couple of months. As often as not I've used spinach instead of watercress</span><span style="font-style: italic;font-family:'Times New Roman';" class="Apple-style-span">—</span><span style="font-style: italic;">delicious. It's also good without the cheese if you're some vegan hippie type. You can refrigerate all the different parts in separate containers and then bring them to work and assemble a salad for lunch; your coworkers will be very impressed/think you're crazy into Tupperware (the salad won't be quite as good because the cauliflower isn't warm, but it's better than a Cup-O-Noodles from the vending machine).<br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">1 head cauliflower, cut into bite-size florets </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, separated </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">1½ teaspoons kosher salt, separated </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">¾ teaspoon pepper, separated </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">1 tablespoon sherry vinegar </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">2 bunches watercress, large stems removed </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">¼ pound Gruyère, diced or grated (about 1 cup) </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">2/3 cup toasted walnuts</p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"> </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /><strong></strong></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><strong style="font-weight: normal;">1. </strong>Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. In a bowl, toss together the cauliflower, 2 tablespoons olive oil, 1 teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper. Spread the cauliflower on a baking sheet in a single layer. Roast, tossing occasionally, until tender and dark golden, ~30. Let cool for 10 minutes. </p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /><strong></strong></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><strong></strong>2. In a small bowl, whisk together the vinegar with the remaining ½ teaspoon salt and ½ teaspoon pepper, and then whisk in the remaining 4 tablespoons oil.<br /></p><p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><br /></p> <p style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><strong></strong>3. In a salad bowl, toss the watercress, cheese, nuts, and warm cauliflower. Pour the vinaigrette over the salad and toss until well combined. </p>gruelfordinnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09677750711311287012noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4917310000157936605.post-14836777409317129362011-03-08T20:30:00.004-05:002011-06-04T13:30:08.224-04:00to every thing there is a seasonIt snowed five gazillion more inches yesterday. Welcome to spring in Vermont.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2yaJPAu7RyXS8Cu-ZTGEa3NGmD75ZsLX5pvYS3WxrZi_1DNKjwOIiCUTmnswH0skQFWQIAoLwvX72PBrqr6ptXAzz8wcdjVS4WtWDxm4LLCXkh_cRfGlOpWQsh7LFl3_FxAMk2IYgcL1/s1600/DSC09994.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 346px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq2yaJPAu7RyXS8Cu-ZTGEa3NGmD75ZsLX5pvYS3WxrZi_1DNKjwOIiCUTmnswH0skQFWQIAoLwvX72PBrqr6ptXAzz8wcdjVS4WtWDxm4LLCXkh_cRfGlOpWQsh7LFl3_FxAMk2IYgcL1/s400/DSC09994.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581543715334197026" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKcbEKpcgjrqyT5tIeyMo8nlAmwPPrkvBX3wZFPoq4F7iB0_8rbGue5fzRkoCVtTstIOj3CyRYmIDE9EvhoPoveHaHH4cKVLLNdfw2nXPHcCAMDneeVYKn4MXTyO2_UYEzh7_rBBoxzEO/s1600/DSC09997.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKcbEKpcgjrqyT5tIeyMo8nlAmwPPrkvBX3wZFPoq4F7iB0_8rbGue5fzRkoCVtTstIOj3CyRYmIDE9EvhoPoveHaHH4cKVLLNdfw2nXPHcCAMDneeVYKn4MXTyO2_UYEzh7_rBBoxzEO/s400/DSC09997.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581886154084650162" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7-AdFjnR7ESfOdj13mygDYDv0AnHOlP6MqG0Y2n0v9tZd9X_dGmLzYxb7kmd_SFKeQPw395Pll8znlT6K9KAfywKZD0YL164__v_wAu4vyIKt3bkoaG8ZZFkP_5xTxXRU6s7DG0YVcR7r/s1600/DSC09997.JPG"><br /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiKcbEKpcgjrqyT5tIeyMo8nlAmwPPrkvBX3wZFPoq4F7iB0_8rbGue5fzRkoCVtTstIOj3CyRYmIDE9EvhoPoveHaHH4cKVLLNdfw2nXPHcCAMDneeVYKn4MXTyO2_UYEzh7_rBBoxzEO/s1600/DSC09997.JPG"><br /></a>How my dog spent the winter; I think he's tanorexic.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMRvKYvjWkEToBdhsSoJnjlAdKSQMxZSDBtxFOI9IUDyWUQ9EcErqDc9nwfSjOSQYQbC8pf2LoMAgZVqatnXdWgBs_4gJZwmp1hYcb4M4OPaUrijP5sn93wxL6qYOO3j-reHJVxS3jSS71/s1600/DSC_0096.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; 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